"Sometimes you don't realize the weight of something you've been carrying until you feel the weight of its release."

Ugh, where to start?

I went back to work April 23rd. Everybody was welcoming and nobody asked me a damn thing, which was good. My buyer was fantastic. The HR woman did everything right. But by Tuesday, the very goddamn next day, I was riding the struggle bus. I went to work but only because I knew I had Wednesday off. I had worked that out with the HR woman....to have Wednesday's off for a month to ease me back into it. Thursday rolled around and I was the same. Struggling to force myself to go. Friday was fine because, well, it was Friday. The next week wasn't good at all. I cried Monday for no fucking reason. Started in the a.m., continued through lunch. I don't know why. Who the fuck knows why. I did and it sucked. But I worked and that was good, right? I texted a friend to help boost me the next day because I knew I would need it. He did and it worked. Wednesday was a good day. Went to my CB AA meeting and ran errands.

Finally, after 5 years of living here, replaced the light above the kitchen sink, with Dad's help of course.

I love it and my dad is a rock star. It was not an easy task to accomplish, but he did it and it works and it's awesome and I love it.

So Wednesday was good. However, I woke up Thursday and called in. Said I was nauseous. I honestly have no recollection of whether or not I actually was. Maybe I was, but probably because I made myself that way by worrying myself to it. I don't know why. Why do I have this wall I can't break through when it comes to work? When did all this shit start? Why do I allow it to continue?

I fought with myself again Friday a.m. and finally came to "Fuck it. I fucking give up. I cannot fight this goddamn battle anymore." And I called HR and quit for good. She understood. I cried all damn day.

A friend of mine who has been around me the past couple of months said to me, "Amy, you haven't been right for 2 months. Your sleep is all jacked up. You're up one minute, down the next. Something isn't right." And it hit me. How did I not see it before? Because I get in my own head and just think I'm a worthless piece of shit who should just die and release everybody in my life from having to deal with this big fucking burden that I feel I am. But having someone say to me, "You're not okay" makes me realize I'm not. You're right. I'm not. I am not okay. This isn't okay. This isn't me.

This shirt didn't work. At all.

And so I finally got with my med check lady and said as much as I hate anti-psychotics, I would take anything she thought would help. Anti-psychotics fuck up my body and make me suicidal, but if they even me out, then so be it. It's a give & take. She found something that isn't an anti-psychotic but is simply a mood stabilizer and I've been taking it since this past Tuesday. I've also been on a high dose antibiotic which is fucking up my body. My mouth tastes like....sour milk. I don't know. It's disgusting. But today was my final day of it so from here on out, I should be able to tell how the new mood stabilizer is effecting me, good or bad. It has the potential to cause blisters around the mouth and nose (mucus membranes) so that's fun! *eye roll* It's unlikely, but why can't a side effect be spontaneous orgasms or something exciting like that? *sigh*

So I'm unemployed and feel like a loser and I'm still crying sporadically for various reasons, but I don't want to end my life and I see that as an improvement. Obviously.

This new drug....I knew I'd been on it before so I went back through my old journals and found when I was on it before and how it effected me. 03-04 and I didn't write anything bad about it, so there's that. However, I was drinking pretty heavily so I'm sure it didn't work as well as it could have. Hopefully this time is better.

It was hard reading those journals. I'm glad I keep them for the above reason because I've been on numerous medications throughout the past 20 years and need those journals as references. But damn. I wish I could burn every fucking one of them. And I may.

Here's what I realized.

I am no goddamn different than I was 17 years ago. I'm the same fucked up goddamn idiot I was then. The only difference is I'm not drinking.

Now, my therapist would remind me.... I am absolutely not the same person. I've grown in those 17 years. I have a greater understanding of myself and others in my life.

But....

My journals were a lot about my relationships with men. And with Mom. And my life today is a lot of the same. Men and Mom.

I feel free to write about Mom here because I'm pretty sure she doesn't read this shit ever. It's too goddamn depressing and I don't blame her one bit.

So here goes.

What I read in the journals was a lot of "Poor me. Why doesn't my family reach out to me? Why don't they check on me? Do they care at all? Hell, I could be dead and they wouldn't know for months because nobody checks in." I still feel that way today, lol. I live a block away from my parents and I'm pretty sure it'd be a good week before someone realized, "Hm, haven't seen or heard from Amy in awhile. Maybe we should check on her." And then it'd probably be another week before they actually did and by that time, Garfield would have eaten my bloated, gassy body and my neighbors would wonder what the smell is emanating from my house. Yep. That's how I envision it happening. I'll choke on some stupid food and lie here for weeks rotting before anybody noticed.

And isn't that sad & depressing? Yep, it sure is.

But here's what.... It would be my own goddamn fault.

That's what I realized reading those journals. It was all "Why don't THEY...." Hell, why don't I? ME. The phone works both ways. I hear my own mother say that all the time about her mother. Grandma complains no one calls her. Well, guess what? You have a telephone too. So here I am, perpetuating the cycle of "poor me", "you take care of me". And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of my behavior and my attitude and my part in relationships and, and, and.

Step Four anyone? "Made a searching and fearless inventory of ourselves." This is my start.

How am I responsible? How have my actions played a part in my relationships with others and myself?

Take men, for example. This is where the rubber hits the road for me. Fearless inventory. OK, here goes.

I use men to feel a semblance of love. While, yes, I enjoy sex, honestly, I use sex to feel close to another human being. I feel unlovable. I don't feel worthy of anyone's love. And so in order for me to feel some form of "love", I use sex. And then I dismiss them. Your services are no longer needed or wanted. You're getting too close for comfort. You may actually see the real Amy so I'm gonna kick you to the curb before you can kick me to the curb. I will hurt you before you can hurt me. Or if you hurt me first, that's it. My level of trust in you is gone and I may try, but our life will never be the same. I will always hold myself back and protect my being at all costs. Because it hurts too damn much to feel and I can't drink that shit away anymore so I've found another way to protect myself. Build a goddamn wall around me of defenses.

You have no idea how hard that is for me to admit. Because when I say I use men for sex, that's all you're gonna see. You're not going to see that I honestly do enjoy sex and my libido has been raging for 2 years. You're not going to see the real work I've done trying to be in 2 loving relationships in that time. All you're going to see is "She uses men for sex. I knew it." And that's where my fear comes in. People thinking less of me or interpreting my honest assessment as something other than what I mean it to be.

Just because I have and continue to use men for sex does not mean I haven't loved and been loved in the past. I have and I do to this day love. As much as I am capable of loving anyone, I have loved Chris and Ricky. And if I'm fucking honest with myself, I fucking love Phil and I hate him for it. *eye roll* There's obviously still work to be done, but reading those journals and realizing my apparent lack of growth was a very rude awakening for this almost 43 year old woman.

Jesus.

When I did Step Four before, it was pretty easy. It's easy, because as a woman, we're good at finding our faults. We feel guilty about everything. We feel (& are made to feel by society) shame for simply being female.

But this time.... this time is different. I still want to do it. I'm actually looking forward to it, in a way. I want to change. I want growth. I do not want to come out of this the same person I was yesterday. I want more. I deserve more. We all do. However, it makes me very anxious to fearlessly look at the deep down core shit that I've clung to for decades and it scares me to think of releasing those defenses. As shitty as they are, they've brought me to this point. Good or bad. They've made me who I am today. I thank them for that. But I don't want to be this person anymore. I want to be more. I want to be better.

And I can be.

"People like you are the reason we have middle fingers."

Man, someone has tried to beat me to shit the last couple of days and I'm happy to say, he has not succeeded.

Yet.

I'm a crockpot thinker, not a microwave thinker. I like to let things sit and settle and soak and really flavorize.  It takes me daaaaaays to think (or not, in my case, because that works better for me), rather than make snap decisions, judgments, statements, etc.  So it may be a few days before I truly feel the repercussions of this person's nastiness.

Men who are cruel to women after being rejected are scary, scary men. Not in the sense that I worry about physical harm to myself. No. Not that. Just that, because their fragile egos have been bruised, they go from worshiping the ground a woman walks on one day to telling her she's a fucking liar, a spoiled fucking child, a self-centered asshole, a hypocrite, a miserable fuck, will end up in the psych ward, never married, never happy, unable to face issues, a coward, etc, etc, etc. the very next. All because she said, very clearly and honestly, we need to end this. A man who can flip that switch so quickly from love to cruelty is a man to be feared....and avoided. At all costs.

It's like Chris calling me a whore all those times. It's an insecure man protecting his damaged ego and attempting to cause as much harm as possible in the process.

Rejection allows you to see a person for who they truly are. Behavior such as that makes the rejection that much easier to stand behind. Yes. This. This right here is why you're rejected.

I said to an ex (then boyfriend) once, "Ya know, when I run into my ex's, they're happy to see me. I don't think that's true for you." Do you remember that? I no longer think that's true for me.

All of this has made me wonder...

Am I incapable of truly being with anyone? 

Maybe. I am 42, so probably. But that doesn't mean I should give up. And it doesn't mean that I can't be happy. I can be happy. And I can be happy single, too. Just because a person never marries, never finds that lasting love, doesn't mean they can't be happy.

And this...the most profound thought I had yesterday...

What someone else thinks of me is not a reflection of who I am. 

I am a very self-reflective, introspective person. I know myself better than anyone else could ever dream of knowing me. Do I do stupid shit? Yep. All the time. Who doesn't? Am I perfect? Hardly. Not even close. Never will be. I have so many flaws, I've stopped counting them. But that's what makes me unique, right?

*eyeroll*

Whatever.

I'm happy to have my life back-- unaware of other people's judgments of me, blissfully ignorant of gossip, oblivious to anyone's innermost thoughts. I am a much better person, a much saner person, a much happier person when my circle is small and only includes those who truly love me for me.

Everyone else can go fuck themselves.

"Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them." - Margaret Atwood

Well, folks, this is going to be one brutally honest post that will leave me feeling embarrassed, ashamed, loathing myself, scared....but mostly relieved as fuck to get it off my chest and out there. It's as if once I write about some distressing incident on this blog, I can move on. Or at least try to move on. And, it doesn't hurt that someone out there in the vast world knows what's going on in my life. I tend not to personally bother anyone with my stupidity because, well, it's stupid. And I would have to come face-to-face with my embarrassment through someone else's eyes and who wants to do that? No, I'm sure it's much healthier to experience this embarrassment in the comfort of my home away from prying eyes. Much healthier. 

So, to preface....

I've blogged about a guy I'd been having trouble communicating with, someone I was trying to take the time to attempt to feel a deeper connection to because it just wasn't there.  I felt like I was trying to force a square peg into a round hole. And why? For fuck's sake, why? That might be for another post, folks, but I'm sure it comes down to...I just want to feel loved and to love. It's as simple and as complicated as that. 

Anywhoo, (and here comes only a smidgen of the embarrassing part), he's the guy from AA who is fresh in sobriety but who I had reached out my hand to help. And, with all sincerity, that's all it was to me. I had absolutely no sexual or romantic intention. None whatsoever. In fact, I found him way too somber and "off" during meetings. But he's going through a criminal case and he's in limbo and he might go to prison for a very long time (70 years, I'd heard him say) and so I felt for him. What would I do in that position? Geez, I don't even want to imagine and thank my higher power, I never got caught or killed anyone or any other heinous crime while drunk.  And he was drunk (according to him) when this incident happened.  

I didn't know what the incident was.  That was for him to tell me in his own time or not at all because honestly, I'm not there to judge. I'm a member of AA. We lend a helping hand to any alcoholic in need. 

I'm also a giant fucking idiot.

So he would text me his depressing thoughts and I would push him towards his sponsor or therapist.  And then he would have these delightfully funny moments where he was relatively normal and I would think to myself, "Yeah, I would do him." Because my brain at age 42 is wired directly to my vagina. Another smidgen of the embarrassing truth. 

I like sex. I like all of it. Thoroughly. This shouldn't surprise any of you. I hit 40, got off Depo, and my libido came raging back after being dormant for 20 years. I didn't even date for 8 years in my 30's! EIGHT FUCKING YEARS. So maybe my vag is making up for lost time, I don't know. But I cannot wait for the day(s) menopause hits and my vag dries up like the fucking Sahara desert and my libido goes *poof*.  Because being distracted by lustful thoughts can be entertaining and fun but damn. It mostly sucks. 

There's a Seinfeld episode for that. There's a Seinfeld episode for every aspect of my life. This one is called "The Abstinence". George has to refrain from sex with his girlfriend because she has mono and because George's brain is no longer distracted by sex, he becomes really, really smart. Elaine stops having sex with her boyfriend to help him get as smart as George and pass his medical exam. The flip side is that poor Elaine becomes really, really stupid. Jerry explains it best:

Jerry: To a woman, sex is like the garbage man. You just take for granted the fact that any time you put some trash out on the street, a guy in a jumpsuit's gonna come along and pick it up. But now, it's like a garbage strike. The bags are piling up in your head. The sidewalk is blocked. Nothing's getting through. You're stupid.

So, yes, in a moment of lust and normalcy on his part, I expressed honestly what I was feeling. "I would like to have sex with you, but that's all it'll be. Can you handle that? I don't want to date you. I don't want a relationship outside of AA and the bed. Can. You. Handle. That?"  He said he could. He said he would happily fill the position of "fuckboy" in my life for as long as I wanted him to and for awhile there, it worked. 

Until he caught feels. 

Of course he did. How could he not? I'm fucking amazing. 

But....wait....

I didn't. I didn't catch feelings. Sure, there were rare moments of fun, of him acting normal, of superb sex, but 90% of the time, I found him incredibly, enormously annoying and irritating. So much so, I just wouldn't talk. I hate not talking. 

I said to my therapist, "I don't even know if I like him or not. I'm still deciding." 

He finally told me his crime a week and a half ago. I find it repulsive and disgusting and absolutely horrid. It fills me with shame and disgust. Because what kind of a fucktard am I that I would get involved with someone like this? I won't disclose his crime and won't disclose his name or any details about any of it, but.... damn. 

And then, I thought, I understand black out drunk (he told me he was blacked out). I am a black out drunk. I would drink to oblivion and not remember a damn thing the next morning. In my 20's I had a black out and woke up in bed, naked, next to a guy whose name I did not know. I still don't know it. Yes, that's horrible, but that's what my alcoholism was like. Detrimental to my health. It does not define me. It does not make me a horrible human being. It makes me very, very sick and thankfully, I got the help I needed through the grace of my parents and friends and today I can look back on that shit and think, "Thank my higher power I'm still alive today". Because I could've (should've) died many many times for all the poor decisions and bad situations I made and put myself in. 

Just as he did. And in AA, what do we do? Reach out the helping hand to any alcoholic in need. *eye roll*

And then he started saying he loved me and, again, in a moment of lust, I responded the same. 

I don't recall a time in my life when I retracted an "I love you" but thankfully, he opened the door for me to do so and I took full advantage. I told him that no, I didn't love him. And he didn't believe me, but whatever. I can't change what someone thinks. All I can do is be me and me is not in love.  

I kept trying. I kept thinking, Why not him? I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was about our fully-clothed interactions that irritated me so damn much. I hung out with my dude neighbor friend the other night just to make sure I was still capable of having a normal conversation with a man and not get irritated. I didn't. We had fun. We always have good conversations. Whew. Glad I didn't break that. 

So, after taking 5 days away from the AA man, texting daily but not actually speaking or seeing each other, my thought was to attempt to take my selfishness out of the equation and be in service to him.  No, not to serve and obey him, but to act selfless, put aside my irritated personality and do kind things for him. 

It didn't help. I still found him enormously irritating. 

So, yesterday, after the meeting, I told him I couldn't keep doing "this". I told him the square peg into a round hole thing. It wasn't working. It wasn't going to work. He is who he is and I am who I am and we're not meant to be (which is what I'd said from the beginning). 

He said he didn't believe that. He didn't believe me. He called me a miserable, toxic person. He said I was a pathological liar. When I asked him what I'd lied about he said "Your age."  

That still makes me laugh. I have never lied about my age. I'm damn proud of being 42. 

He also said I lied about having never slept with anyone in AA. 

That isn't what I'd said. I'd said I'd never slept with anyone from a meeting before. Of course I've slept with men in AA. AA's a huge program throughout the world. There are men everywhere in AA. The likelihood of me sleeping with one of them isn't rare. I'd met a guy online, we hit it off, we found out we're both in the program but we didn't attend any of the same meetings. I've taken him to one of mine. He's taken me to one of his. We're not dating. We both know we're not right for each other in that way, but we enjoy sharing our time together when we can and if we can hit an AA meeting in the process, all the better. 

So, no, I didn't lie. I don't think I have any secrets. I'm a pretty open book. Yes, my life is private. I don't go around airing my dirty laundry. I'm protective of myself because people are assholes. But if someone outright asks me something, I have a hard time not answering them. If I'm uncomfortable doing so, I just say so... "I'm not comfortable talking about that." Simple. 

So, I took him home after telling him it was over because, of course, he can't drive. I just let him rant on and on for 20 minutes because he obviously needed to. I was silent. When he got out of the car, I said I was sorry, he kissed me, said a few more not-so-kind words and that was that. 

Until 5 minutes later, when he started blowing up my phone and continues to this morning. No kidding. I'm not going to count every single message he has sent me from 10:40am Sunday to this morning because I don't have the time, but I have screenshot every single one and am keeping them for the police, when they find my mutilated body. Maybe it'll help them solve my murder. 

So here comes the truly embarrassing part but there isn't a way to express or show you what I mean without actually showing you. 

This is where it gets bad. 

And then back to loving. 

And then just...WTF?

Again WTF WTF WTF. Chris?!? Huh?

Let me be clear here: I love sex. I am not addicted to it. There is nothing wrong with a woman enjoying sex. But perhaps I do go about it the wrong way, lol. At least I can laugh about this shit. 

Both hateful and loving at the same time. Pick a goddamn emotion and stick with it! And then minor panic set in because did he just threaten to air my dirty laundry during an AA Meeting? 

This is where he really freaked me out and I had another minor panic attack and then thought, fuck that shit. I talked to the only person I could talk to and not feel mortified and he agreed that my "no response" was the correct response. 

My folks have given up on me finding "the one". They'd be happy if I just settled, lmao. But no, not with this guy.

Um, why am I doing this? Because THIS. 

Hate, love, manipulation and then....as if all those previous posts didn't just happen the night before. 

Oh, an apology! No. Not really. It's a "sorry not sorry". Ugh.

I have not responded to a single text. Not one. And yet, it continues. 

There's a new term for this kind of behavior: BYE FELIPE

It's when a man loses his shit after a woman politely rejects him. There's an Instagram account specifically for posting the barrage of text messages women receive after rejecting a man. It's all a bit ridiculous if you ask me....and more than a little scary. 

I'm honestly waiting for him to threaten my life and then shit gets real. Maybe he has and I just don't read it that way. I don't think so. I think he's a terribly troubled man and if he needs to spew shit at me, so be it. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I don't. I've come to terms with it over the last 24 hours and hope he finds peace somehow, someway. 

But don't for a second think that if he eludes to threatening me physically, I won't call the police. 'Cause I sure as shit will. I don't deserve to die at the hands of a psychopath. I deserve to die slipping on my kitchen rug while tossing a handful of peanut butter M&M's into my mouth as I fall onto my fat cat. 

I, of course, googled the shit out of why men get so angry when rejected (because this is by no means the first time and probably won't be the last...and other times I've gotten a response like this, it's usually been from a guy on a dating website who I'd never even met!!!) and found these articles. They're all good. 

It's the pain of male entitlement and female autonomy disregarded simultaneously.  https://www.stuffmomnevertoldyou.com/blogs/why-men-cant-handle-romantic-rejection.htm

What’s inappropriate is hounding the other person, and dominating her personal space (virtual or IRL) to the point where she is forced to acknowledge you.   https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/dear-men-women-dont-owe-you-anything_us_55d24e00e4b07addcb43c3d4

You don’t always have to catch the ball when somebody throws it at you.    The more that you ignore your ex’s “baits”, the less he will try to start conflicts with you.   Some guys would point fingers when the relationship fails, and it is usually directed to you. If you are still suffering the dilemma of “Why do guys get mad when you reject them?” don’t forget to believe in yourself and your ex’s perception of you should not define you.   https://www.enkirelations.com/why-do-guys-get-mad-when-you-reject-them.html

https://www.bolde.com/ever-said-no-guy-cant-handle-rejection/

...comes from a place of feeling powerless that is said to imply the person with more power is being immature for exercising it. It implies that saying no, saying “this is not okay with me,” or setting up a boundary is childish. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Actually, asserting what you want or what you are comfortable with is actually very mature.   http://www.thefrisky.com/2013-06-18/girl-talk-it-says-a-lot-about-a-man-if-he-cant-handle-rejection/

So, yeah, that's it. That's my shameful, embarrassing, disgusting, story for the day. 

I'd like to say I'm done with men. I'm done dating. I'm never having sex again. 

I can't say any of those things. But I can say this: I am done with this man. I am never having consensual sex with him ever again. 

I may run into him at an AA meeting. He may try to embarrass me and shame me. He may tell lies or exaggerate the truth about me. He may try. But I know in my heart of hearts what is good and true. I know I am not perfect. I made a mistake. A huge, huge mistake. I have since rectified it and learned my lesson. I apologize to the AA gods. I truly do. It won't happen again. I am humbled. 

I can't control him or what he'll do. All I can control is my reaction and my reaction is to simply not engage, to just be me, to not allow someone to make me feel less than or unworthy or as if I don't belong in AA... And if those in AA choose to believe him, that's on them. If they don't know this Dave-ism, perhaps I should share it at the next meeting...

"What Jack says about Jane says more about Jack than it does about Jane."

Yep. 

I am not going to defend myself. I will own my mistake and I will make amends for it, but I will not debate my merits. Nor will I discuss him, his behavior, actions, words, his crime, his personal life, anything he has shared with me to anyone in AA. That isn't who I want to be. I don't like gossip, I don't like people talking about me, so I won't partake in it.  

I don't know how to end this post...probably because it's not done. It isn't finished. There will be more, you can be sure of that. But as of today, I'm in a good place. I'm alive and well. I have good friends and family. I have Garfield. I have a beautiful home. I am loved and I am loving. 

"Sorry. I'm not Adele. I don't wish the best for you nor do I want to find someone like you. I do, however, want to set fire to all your stuff."

I heard some disturbing news today from a friend of mine who is having problems in her marriage.

Men cheat.

Married men cheat.

Stupid men cheat.

*eye roll*

I shouldn't say men like all men.  Some men. Some 25% of men have had an extramarital affair.  A quarter of the married male population (some statistics say as many as 80%, but I'm giving the male gender the benefit of the doubt and I'm too tired to do more research than a quick google search).

I don't even want to know what the percentage is of women who cheat on their husbands.  I'm sure it's horribly high.  Disgustingly high.

It's disturbing, isn't it?  Why do people cheat? Man or woman? Is it the thrill? The adventure? Is it just sex? Naw. It's never just sex.  The cheater is getting something from the mistress/mister(?) that the cheater isn't getting at home....beyond sex.  Or he's/she's just a cowardly asshole with zero self control, feeling, compassion or empathy. 

I hate cheaters.  Hate.

Ugh. It's the most degrading, disrespectful act one loved one can do to another.  Cheat. Makes me want to punch something.  

Just to be clear, as far as I know, Chris has not cheated on me. 

Yet. 

I mean, I wonder, on a daily basis why the hell he's with me because I never feel good enough... surely he gets hit on by hotter women than me on a daily basis and I'm no prize catch so why wouldn't he cheat?  Many other men I've dated sure as hell have....which has obviously left me untrusting and a bit bitter and hearing about my friend and her problems left me sad.  Immensely sad.  I hurt for her. She OD'd (or tried to) when she found out.  She spent 2 days in the hospital.  

My response to her?  

HURT HIM, NOT YOURSELF.

Castrate him.  

Cause him pain.

Fuck him up.

Aaarrrghhh!! I hate cheaters.  

Mostly, I'm sad for my friend who is a fantastic woman who deserves a helluva lot better than that asshole.  I'm sad for her because she was hurting so badly, she felt like taking her own life was her only choice. 

I know that feeling.  Oooh, boy, do I ever.  And I don't miss it. Not one iota.  

So, yeah, while it would devastate me if Chris cheated on me.... or left me for any reason.... it would not destroy me.  I would cry. I would sob, surely. I would be inconsolable for a long while.... but I would survive.  Because that's what I do.  I survive.  I come out better on the other side.  

Fuckin' men. 

Again, Chris and I are well & fine and our relationship is amazing, but hearing about something like this just scares me.  I put my whole heart into this one man's hands.  I hope he doesn't crush it.

 

"Yes I was in love. But that was yesterday."

Finally! My period started today and I'm all like, "It's about damn time, bitch! I've been a raging bitch for the last week! Where have you been?"  Women's menstrual cycles do come in handy every once in a while.  "I'm not a bitch.  My period's coming...."

Ok, ok, I'm just a bitch.

I swear, work makes me into something/someone I do not want to be.  I don't want to be bitchy, pissy, angry, frustrated, rude, rolling my eyes so hard I can see my brain, muttering "fuckin' shut up" under my breath every two seconds, ready to smash someone over the head with a keyboard type of employee.

Where did my happy go?

Oh yeah, down the street to the new, fun, cool law firm.  Dammit.

However, I do think I might see some light at the end of this dark, dreary tunnel.  Maybe....just maybe.

And as for my dating situation, *sigh*.  Everything was fine until he got all ga-ga and then I'm like, "Whoa, there, slow down buddy.  I'm not your girlfriend. You're definitely not my boyfriend.  You're barely my friend. Just shut your mouth and kiss me.  No need to speak. At all. Ever. Again."

*eye roll*  Is it any wonder I'm forever-single? 'Cause I wanna be.

Saturday I baked? Cooked? a breakfast casserole (only one of many others) for the fire department who were roofing one of their own's house because he has MS and it's sad. He lives 20 steps from my house.  Anyway, Shan asked me to bake? cook? a breakfast casserole and after I asked her if she was sure she wanted to subject them to my cooking and she said yes, they're men, they'll eat anything, I obliged.  I have to say....while I didn't eat one single bite of it (I probably should have just to make sure it was actually edible), it looked and smelled damn good.  I told Shan not to tell me if they all hated it and dumped it all in the garbage.  I didn't want to know.  She brought my pan back...empty...so either it was good or some dog got a really tasty meal.  Whatever. That's not the point of this.  That same morning, I was over watering my neighbor's plants because they're in Louisiana having fun (while I'm not) and I thought....."Look at me being all helpful and neighborly. When the fuck did that happen?"

Oh and while I was doing my neighborly duty Friday night, the ex passed by on his motorcycle.  I waved before I saw who it was. I like to think, had I known it was him, I would have given him a middle finger salute.  Instead, I waved....like an idiot...because it made him think it was ok to stop to chat.  It wasn't. I didn't outright tell him to go fuck himself (I wish I had) but I was short with him because I don't have anything to say to him.  His face makes me want to punch it.  

When you wake up and feel no pain....you're probably dead.

Ugh, my body hurts!  To everybody older than I am currently, please don't tell me it only gets worse.  I don't want to know.  I want to live in my happy, unicorn-and-lolli-pop world where, eventually, I'll wake up and feel like I'm 20 again.

*eye roll*

So here's why, apparently, my back, forearms, wrists, sides - my entire torso, basically- hurts:

Giant stump Dad cut

Smaller stumps & concrete pavers

More. Just more.

It really wasn't all that bad with Dad's help on Saturday, but Friday night I got home and was rarin' to get to work so I dug the huge-stump-hole (which felt a bit like I was diggin to China) and then tried to move some pavers I had previously set (last year) to their new spots.  I dug one in.  I pulled two out.  I was dripping sweat like you wouldn't believe in what-felt-like 100% humidity and mid-80's temps.  

Have I mentioned I hate summer?  I do. I really, really do.

So Saturday, Dad brought his crowbar to lift the other pavers that were already set (SO. MUCH. EASIER!) and we dug more holes and laid move heavy things in them.  

That's why I'm sore.  It's a good sore, though.  Good.

Naw, I take that back.  Everything just hurts and I want it to stop.

As for other news, I did, in my own weird way, ask for a raise.  I simply asked the female attorney if they (both of them) had discussed any kind of pay increase.  She said they had.  I have no idea how much (not enough, I guarantee it) or when (not nearly soon enough), but supposedly it's coming.  Why didn't I ask??? Because I'm an idiot and I thought I would be better off winging it instead of properly thinking through what I was going to say, but when I do that, I forget things....and pretty important things, too.

*sigh*

So we'll see.  I'm not holding my breath.

Do you remember, when I first moved to this beautiful hamlet, a guy-neighbor invited me to watch the Steelers play each Sunday?  It was kind of like, "Hey! You like the Steelers, I like the Steelers, let's like them together!"  I would have been happy to, had he ever invited me after that initial "so you wanna?"  I was just confused.  Why invite me and then not really invite me?  What's that about?  So when he messaged me a couple of weeks ago and asked if I wanted to go on an actual date, I thought, "Progress!"  Apparently not.  He bailed the morning of because of "work".  I didn't respond.  I find the best response is no response...because what I want to say is, "You have no idea what you're missing...." and "You've got two strikes...one more flake and you're out!"  I may not even wait for another strike....he may be out already.

On a happier note, I get to see my new OKCupid crush today.  We've been texting all week; I've been ignoring all others; and I'm simply allowing myself to enjoy it....whatever it is.  Scary as hell.

"Your online dating application has been denied due to your answer to question six: "What do you want in a man?" "A bullet" is not an acceptable answer."

OK, I think I'm getting back to "normal" and by "normal" I mean a-bit-less-than-sex-crazed.  I was feeling pretty down about myself the last few days because, well, men.  Need I say more? But then I remembered....I'm awesome.

I figured it out - I now know what boys in their 20's feel like.  They'll do and say anything to get laid.  They'll put themselves in relationships they don't want to be in just to get some.  I was trying to take a more honest & mature approach to getting what I wanted.  I've realized to get what I want, I've got to play the game. *eye roll*  How stupid.  But fine. I can play your game if that's what it takes for me to get mine.

I'm still on OKCupid....searching for that elusive man I'm passionate about & who is equally passionate about me.  I feel a bit like Goldilocks: This one is overly passionate and I'm lukewarm at best.  This one I want! Oh, but he doesn't want me....  And this one is juuuuuuuust right.

However, I don't need Mr. Right. I just need Mr. Right Now....for, maybe, the next 20 years or so.

It took 3 days of being incommunicado with any dating-material-man to get myself back to normal.  It was a 3-day rehab, of sorts.  I forgot....I like spending time by myself.

"A girl doesn't need anyone who doesn't need her." -Marilyn Monroe

This morning I'm thinking about passion.  I want to find someone I'm passionate about equally as much as he is passionate about me.

Why is this so difficult to find?

I have one man who is more passionate about me than I am about him.....and another man who I'm more passionate about than he is about me.  If I could smoosh the two guys together and make one, I'm pretty sure I'd be a zillionaire because that's what every woman wants.

I want someone to surprise me in the morning....because I want him to.
I want someone to surprise me at work....because I want him to.
I want someone I get butterflies in the stomach when I think about...and who gets the same.
I want someone I can't keep my hands off of....and he can't keep his hands off of me.
I want someone whose texts I look forward to and who texts me first....instead of me feeling like a stalker.
I want someone I can't stop thinking about....who also can't stop thinking about me.

And then...

Bipolar anyone? *sigh* It's no wonder...

Expectations.  Whenever I have expectations, or wants, things generally go bad.  I'm disappointed. I realize how ridiculous I was being. I crawl back into my hole and stay there for two years only to reemerge and start  the cycle all over again.  When am I going to learn? 

"I don't think I could ever stab someone. I mean, let's be honest. I can barely get the straw in the Capri Sun."

Mom & Dad have made their migration northward (they're birds) so of course I had a dream about mom dying.  I regaled the office with it this morning and while it was traumatic for me, apparently my telling of it was hilarious because people were doubled-over laughing.  I won't traumatize you with all the details because there are a lot, but I will say Mom experienced some pretty severe trauma caused by a blizzard-wind and was bashed along the sidewalk (face down) for quite a ways.  A co-worker (who just happened to be there? *head shake*) held Mom and said, "She's dead" to which I responded in my most adamant voice "No She Is Not" and with that, Mom gasped in some air and survived.  I woke up at Midnight wondering if my mom was alive or dead.  I was traumatized.  Co-workers thought it was hilarious (because there's a lot more to the telling, but like I said, I won't bore you with the details).

I googled all the major facets of the dream: wind, blizzard, death of mom.  Wind means I'm free.  *eye roll*  Blizzard means I'm feeling emotionally cold and frigid and that I feel excluded and left out; it may also indicate a lack of love and the absence of warmth.  *sigh*  Death of mom means I'm feeling neglected; that she's unresponsive to my needs; that I'm not feeling any compassion or emotion from the mother-figure in my life.

Seriously.

The woman's been home one day and I already feel neglected.  LMAO, sorry Mom!

I swear, I think people create those "dream interpretation" sites and just bullshit their way through.  "Oh, this sounds good!"  Asshats. I think I'd just seen my mother (& father) for the first time in months and at a funeral no less and so my subconscious was simply processing the event(s) of the day.  It just regurgitates images, etc. from the day so we don't all go crazy.

Whatever.

So, today I buzzed one of the attorney's about a client who has called often and the attorney mutters, "Jesus Christ.....sorry, sorry, I know you're religious..." to which I almost bust out laughing, but all I managed to get out of my mouth was, "No".  I mean, I get it.  I worked for a church for almost 7 years.  My dad is a retired pastor.  I have a cross tattoo on my arm.  So yeah, I can see how people would assume that.  I can't stop thinking how wrong that attorney is......

I don't really tote a gun around...can you imagine if I did? :) 

On a happier note, my tattoo is healing nicely.  Tuesday night it was as if my skin was shedding....only it was all black and gross.  But that part is almost done and while it itches like a bitch, it's worth it.  Though not being able to take a bath until it heals.....that's almost a deal breaker.

My love life is......what?  I don't know. Complicated.  Sex is great with one. I'm ga-ga over another who probably isn't interested in me at all.  How is it this always happens to me?  I'm not a teenager any more.  I shouldn't get ga-ga over anyone, least of all someone who doesn't like my short hair.

*sigh* I don't know what to do with myself....but I'm certainly entertaining!